


hold your breath so you don't say i love you

by skuls



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: 46. things you said when you kissed me goodnight, along the different seasons





	

**Author's Note:**

> some pieces from #2 are taken from my story second step

**01.**

It's not the first time they've been in quarantine and it certainly won't be the last, but this is definitely the most severe he's seen. Scully's burns make it look like she fought a mountain lion. She lies limply on the bed, pale enough that she looks near death. 

Mulder waits by her bed because he feels like he owes it to her after bringing her on this hell trip, after the argument they'd had at the cabin. It's easy to forget that there's someone else at risk on these cases now. He'd never cared much when it was his own life in danger, but Scully has a family who worries about her, a future, a life not dedicated to the pursuit of the paranormal. She's been put in danger, almost killed a few times, because of these cases, but this is the first time she's ever been really, truly hurt, to the point of requiring a hospital stay. 

Mulder waits by her bedside, trying to work on a crossword puzzle and mostly failing to keep his mind focused until a nurse comes to find him and insists that he go back to bed. He sighs petulantly; he'd wanted to be able to apologize when she woke up. Instead, he surprises himself and leans forward, kissing her forehead quickly. “Sleep well, Scully,” he mumbles before dragging his oxygen tank back towards his own room. They'll have too much time to sleep, now. 

 

**02.**

He tries to coax her into stopping for dinner somewhere, especially when he hears she didn't eat on the airplane, but Scully refuses. She just wants to go to bed, even if that bed is an unfamiliar hotel bed. 

Mulder agrees to stay in her room with her - honestly, he looks just as relieved as she feels at the prospect - and heads over to his room to pick up his things. She’s in the bathroom before Mulder gets back to the room. Scully’s halfway convinced herself that she will feel better after a hot shower, because that sort of thing has always worked before, but as soon as her hand comes in the vicinity of the faucet, she is backed up against the wall, shaking, Pfaster’s voice echoing in her head. She curls her fingers inward in an attempt to make the echoes stop, but they won’t. She can’t get near the tub. Her heart is pounding

“Scully?” he calls from the other side of the wall, door slamming shut behind him. “You okay?” That annoyingly familiar panic is back in his voice, thinning his words to a worried, reedy monologue. 

She shoves the door open with both hands. “I’m fine,” she repeats, not meeting his eyes. She grabs a shirt and her sweatpants, and heads back into the bathroom to change. She doesn’t realize the shirt is Mulder’s until she pulls it over her head and catches his scent. Any other time, she might be embarrassed, but at the moment, she doesn’t care because it’s large on her, large enough that the sleeves fall over her hands and hide her bruised wrists, large enough to keep her from feeling restrained. She breathes out.

“Scully?” he asks again as she exits the bathroom.

She doesn’t answered the unasked question ( _ are you okay _ ), but instead moves closer to him, burying her face against the hollow of his collarbone. His arms come up and around her almost automatically.  _ I will be,  _ she thinks, curling her hand into his t-shirt.  _ I will be _ .

He presses a kiss to the top of her head like he did in Pfaster’s front hall, rocking her slightly before coaxing her to crawl into the bed. He immediately sits at the little hotel desk beside her side of the bed. She tugs the covers up to her chin and glances over at him. “I'm right here, Scully,” he says softly. “Get some sleep.”

 

**03.**

Mulder is found at a hospital almost six hours after they were cut off over the phone. He has a concussion and several lacerations on his face, as well as bruises from jumping onto the train, but is relatively well off, all things considered.

He winces a considerable amount on the way home,  picking at the bandage on the cut on his forehead. “Leave it alone, Mulder, you'll make it worse,” Scully chides from the driver's seat.

“The pain’s not nearly as bad as other times I've gotten hurt,” he says. “It's mostly irritating. Like an itch that won't go away. But it's painful.” 

She rolls her eyes. “That's what you get for jumping onto that train.”

“You know what they say: no pain, no evidence of an alien-human hybrid that's being carried in a quarantine rail car,” he says sulkily. He's clearly disappointed about the entire escapade. She's disappointed herself; any answers about Melissa's murder have been temporarily lost. 

“I wish you hadn't gotten on that train,” she says as she parks in front of his building. “It was reckless. You could've been killed.”

He gives her a funny look. “Scully, have you ever known me  _ not  _ to be reckless?”

She laughs in spite of herself. “You're an idiot.” She leans across the console and kisses his cheek. “I'm glad you're okay.”

He offers her a small smile before saying, “Night, Scully,” and getting out of the car. He lifts his hand in a wave before disappearing into his building. As juvenile as it feels, she waves back. 

 

**04.**

Scully stays one more night at the hospital after Penny Northern’s death. She is weak and choked with grief; she spends most of the day sleeping. Maggie stays by her daughter's bed; Mulder wanders the halls. He claims a table in the cafeteria and scribbles notes all day, making phone calls to the Gunmen about research until a member of the staff glares at him.

Maggie finds him there in the middle of the afternoon. “My flight’s in forty minutes,” she says apologetically. “I don't think I can change it. Do you think…” She looks down at her clasped hands. “Do you think you could drive her home?”

“Of course, Mrs. Scully,” he says. 

Maggie nods grateful. “You'll make sure she's not alone, won't you?” she asks. 

“Of course,” he says again. He's all too glad to spend as much time as possible with Scully. The clock is running out, so to speak, and it fucking terrifies him. 

Maggie thanks him and leaves and he ventures down to Scully's room. She's asleep, her arm sprawled out, fingers dangling over the edge of the mattress. He smiles slightly, intertwining their fingers as he pulls her hand into his. 

Her eyelids flutter at the sudden motion. “Mmf,” she mutters, rolling around in the bed. “Mul’ler?”

He's pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it before he knows what he's doing. “Shh,” he soothes. “Go back to sleep. You need your rest. Your mom's headed back to Baltimore and I'm driving you home tomorrow.”

Her eyes close. “Mulder, you haven't slept in days,” she says groggily. “Go to the hotel.”

“I don't want you to be alone,” he says simply. 

She doesn't argue; instead, she rolls over in bed, dragging his hand with her and clasping it to her chest. He doesn't mind.

 

**05.**

There is some part of him that still can't quite believe she is alive. After she'd finished her 911 call at the warehouse, she'd turned to find him still staring at her in wide-eyed horror, like.he still saw her bleeding out on the floor. He'd tugged her into his arms, and the fierce embrace had felt like it was holding her together. “ _ Scully, _ ” he’d near-sobbed into her hair. And then he'd yanked away, as if just remembering the other half of the experience, a haunted look on his face. He hasn't looked at her since, holds his hands stiffly by his side as if he isn't able to touch her.

She takes him home and guides him towards the couch, piling blankets on top of him. He turns so he's facing the back of the couch instead of her. She hovers awkwardly in the doorway. “I'm going to bed, Mulder,” she says finally. “Do you need anything?”

“Why do you keep doing this, Scully?”

She bites down hard on her lip. They don't talk about things like this. They've been distant lately, since Emily; she's been left with grief she doesn't know how to deal with, which has thrown a wrench in their previous closeness. She draws closer to the couch until she's standing over him. “Doing what? Working cases?”  _ Or almost dying?  _ is the better addition she can't bring herself to say out loud.

“I almost shot you tonight,” he murmurs, words harsh in his mouth. “ _ Again _ . Scully, I can't…”

“Mulder, that's not your fault,” she says. “You didn't know what you were doing.” 

“I thought I'd lost you,” he says, voice cracking, still not looking at her. “And I would've if you hadn't…” He trails off, shoulders trembling. 

She tries to soothe him, running her hands over his back until he calms, burying his face in a throw pillow. “Shhh.” She leans over him and kisses his hair. “Get some sleep, Mulder. It's okay. I'm right here.”

 

**06.**

Her sobs have long since subsided, and now she's sitting numbly on his couch wrapped in a blanket while Mulder talks to the police. The neighbors had called when they heard the gunshots. 

He has no way of explaining the blood on the floor. 

He sits beside Scully on the couch after they leave and she tugs the blanket further around her. “How you feeling?” he says softly.

“I need something for the pain,” she mumbles, staring blankly at the floorboards.

“It's in the medicine cabinet,” he says. She's already refused to go see a doctor.

He follows her into the bedroom, and tries to make his bed look halfway decent while she rummages through the cabinet. “You can sleep here tonight, if you want,” he offers when she exits the bathroom. Off her surprised look, he adds, “I-I can take the couch again. The bed doesn't leak anymore, and it's actually kind of nice. The water, I mean.”

“Okay,” she whispers.

Her front is covered in blood, and he supposes she wants to change into something else and probably go to sleep. “Well, um… I'll leave you to it. And I'll be right outside if you need me,” he says awkwardly and she nods. He steps closer and kisses her gently on the forehead, taking her by the elbows and drawing her closer. Even though it isn't remotely dark out, he adds, “Good night, Scully.”

He's halfway out of the room before he hears her quiet but annoyed mutter. “You'll tell me you love me and you'll kiss me, but you won't do a damn thing about it.” Panicked and not entirely sure he heard her right, he hurries out of the room. 

Only when he's outside and settled on the couch, unable to take his eyes off of the bloodstains ( _ her  _ blood) does he remember Padgett’s earlier words.  _ Agent Scully is already in love.  _

 

**07.**

“I think you've told Skinner that we don't share motel rooms once or twice,” Scully says grouchily from her spot on the bed.

“So?” he says around his toothbrush.

She waves her arm at the piles of their stuff side by side on the table and floor. 

Mulder spits into the sink and whirls to face her. “Technically, we did get two hotel rooms. And technically, we've been making regular appearances in each other's hotel beds - as well as our regular beds - for the past four months. And  _ technically _ , you were the one who said we should use only one of the rooms this time, because it was more ‘convenient’ and you didn't want to have to go back to your room every morning.”

“Yeah, but I didn't consider the possibilities of Skinner finding out,” she says. 

He raises an eyebrow. “And what are those?” 

She hmmphs. “Well, aside from the fact that someone could  _ see  _ us… Mulder, you have no poker face.”

He blinks. “I have no  _ what _ ?”

“You're a terrible liar,” she says, twisting her hand in the hem of his t-shirt and yanking him down beside her. 

He lands parallel beside her with a thunk, legs tangling awkwardly as he tries to regain balance. “Scully,” he says breathlessly, tickling her side until she giggles. “I don't think this relationship is working out.” But there's no seriousness in his voice, remnants of laughter still there as he leans down to kiss her neck.

She rolls out of his reach. “See? Terrible liar.” She leans over him and kisses him until he forgets his name. 

 

**08.**

He seems like a ghost most of the time, thin and gaunt and haunted. It seems fitting that he came back from the dead. There are times when he seems happy, almost like the old Mulder, and there are times when he is awkward and quiet, lost in his own thoughts. Almost gone. 

Scully's spent enough wishing he was here to go through this pregnancy with her. And now that he is, it's nothing like she ever pictured. Tonight was nice, his doll keeping watch on her dresser and a pizza box left abandoned on the table. But the underlying question is still there: will this be a normal thing or will he be gone in the morning? 

He's sprawled across the bed when Scully exits the bathroom, hand gracing the edge of her stomach. He looks up at her, eyes glued to her abdomen. “How's the little guy doing?”

Scully eases into bed beside him and smiles. “Active. He's always kicking up a storm.”

His hand comes up to curve around her stomach, large fingers splayed across her t-shirt ( _ his _ t-shirt, actually, and by the look on his face, he's noticed). The baby kicks under his palm, and Mulder's face lights up in amazement. He leans down and kisses the spot gently. 

Scully shivers. “I missed you,” she says softly. 

He looks up at her uncertainly, kisses her stomach again, and rises up to kiss her. “I missed you.”

 

**09.**

The sky is still dark and they've barely gotten half an hour away from the prison when he stops the car on the side of the road. “We need to keep moving,” she says breathlessly, still terrified of flood lights and sirens and military men who will take him back to die. 

“I missed you,” he says hoarsely, and that's all he can get out before they are kissing, messy and fierce, his hands in her hair and along her back, her knee jammed into the console. 

It seems like an eternity before they stop. She rests her forehead against his, gasping hard for air as she holds him closer, fistfuls of the hated orange jumpsuit under his coat. They were going to kill him, slow in a way she couldn't save him from. “Never leave me again,” she whispers. 

 

**10.**

It's been a long time since they argued over case, longer still since they've prolonged the argument by walking out to their cars together. Skinner passes them in the parking garage and raises his eyebrows at Mulder, who can't help but smile back. 

“All I'm saying is that a haunted cell phone is unlikely because of the things people do to their cell phones,” Scully protests. “How do you know they don't have a-a haunting app?”

He snorts. “Scully, you can't have an app that makes random calls to people in a strange voice.”

“No, Mulder, that's called prank calls,” she says stubbornly. “Getting the FBI involved is just part of the thrill.”

“Hmmph,” he says. “Teenagers may be dumb, but surely they're not dumb enough to mess with the federal government.”

They come to a stop at Scully's car; he can still see the faded, dust path of his finger tracing  _ Don't give up  _ on her rearview. Scully looks almost upset to have to stop their argument. “Pick this up tomorrow?” she asks hopefully. 

“Sure,” he says. 

She smiles. To his surprise, she rises on her tiptoes and kisses him sweetly with her hands on his shoulders. “Good night, Mulder,” she says before climbing into her car and starting it. 

Mulder moves out of the way as she backs out of the space, waves awkwardly as she passes him. She is still smiling. He smiles back. “Good night, Scully.”


End file.
